


Holding On

by GrimmVertigo



Series: Artist!AU [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, war veteran nyx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 00:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11566158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimmVertigo/pseuds/GrimmVertigo
Summary: Nyx didn't escape the war with Niflheim unscathed. Noctis helps him cope.





	Holding On

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame Paperthinrevolutionary on Tumblr for this one. I asked for a prompt. She said "write someone getting hurt. Emotionally." My brain immediately screamed "PTSD!Nyx". 
> 
> Have fun, kiddos. 
> 
> (I don't actually know much about PTSD or how to deal with it. It's 2:30am, I did zero research. Pls don't yell at me.)

Noctis knew from experience that Nyx wouldn't have come back from the war with Niflheim unscathed. 

When Regis had come home, Noctis remembered him being... _Different_. He was quieter, more withdrawn. Sometimes he'd catch him sitting somewhere in the house and just staring off at nothing, stuck in his own head. Sometimes he would startle at sudden sounds and go into fight or flight mode. Sometimes it was just his joints and old wounds acting up. Noctis learned how to deal with all of these, how to coax Regis back to relative normalcy with a soft voice, a gentle touch, some warm tea, and something to help with the pain. 

Regis had been a General, spared from the worst of the fighting and kept behind the lines to give orders and devise strategies. By the time he had worked his way up to the title of General, the war was just beginning to _really_ escalate; Regis was spared from the worst. 

Nyx had been in the middle of everything, start to finish. 

He'd been drafted in the beginning, when Lucis was scrambling to piece together some semblance of an army to defend themselves with – their standing army had not been enough to withstand the first of Niflheim's onslaughts. He'd been on and off the front lines for the first few years before being placed with the Kingsglaive, which forced him to be _everywhere_. 

Niflheim had been merciless and unforgiving to both Lucian soldiers and their own. Nyx had experienced it all. It was astounding that he'd made it out alive in the first place, but he didn't emerge unscathed. 

Nyx had scars. He specialized in close-quarters combat, it was only a given that he have a few here and there – an abdominal stab wound on his left side, a spider-web of lightning marks spanning across his right pectoral and up into that same shoulder, various cuts and burn marks on both arms and legs. Sometimes the worst would ache and flare with pain on days when the weather was wet and too cold, but Noctis was used to tending those. A warm bath and a day in bed helped soothe the physical. It was the mental that Noctis was unprepared for. 

He could deal with coaxing Nyx out of a panic attack or a flashback during waking hours using techniques similar to the ones he used with Regis. Except where Regis would just randomly stare into space, Nyx was triggered by certain noises. Noctis had to be careful when flipping through channels on the TV, because sometimes he would stop on one with a documentary or movie about the war and Nyx would hear Magitek soldiers and just _freeze_ , his hand always going for the kukri strapped to his thigh. Noctis later learned that it was the sound the MTs made – the soft mechanical whirring of a new model or the grinding of Imperial steel on the more battle-worn units, the sound of Imperial firearms or the heavy thudding of a melee MT's axe. It was easy enough to avoid and not much of an issue to manage. 

The real trouble came with the nightmares. 

The first time Noct had witnessed one of Nyx's PTSD nightmares was four or five months after they started dating. 

He hadn't been sure what had woken him at first, and in the moment he didn't really care; he'd been more grumpy that he was awake at four in the morning. It was only when he rolled back over and went to snuggle up against Nyx that Noctis realized that something was wrong. 

Nyx usually slept deeply and splayed out like a starfish, the definition of a dead-to-the-world bed-hog. He was instead curled in on himself and breathing heavily through his nose. When Noct laid a hand on his shoulder, he could feel tense muscles. Had he been more awake, he would have remembered how bad of an idea it was to try to forcefully wake a war veteran from a nightmare. Instead, Noctis shook his shoulder a little, calling out Nyx's name. 

Nyx woke with what Noctis could only describe as a _roar_. He grabbed Noct and threw them both out of bed, only to pin him to the floor with a hand to his chest and a kukri to his throat. Above him, the light from the city outside the windows illuminated Nyx's face, which had twisted into a fierce snarl, eyes unfocused and angry, the muscles in his arms tensed to strike. Noct's heart beat fast and hard in his chest as he felt panic creeping up, but he managed to take in slow, deep breaths so as to avoid the sharp blade from slicing his throat. (He didn't even know Nyx's kukris had been within grabbing distance.) 

Long minutes passed as Noctis waited for Nyx to come out of it, as he kept his breathing even and watched intently for any change in the glaive's expression. He moved experimentally, tentatively touching fingertips to the back of the hand pinning him to the floor. When nothing happened, he shifted to grasp Nyx's hand and give it a gentle squeeze, praying to the gods that he didn't jolt and do something harmful. His eyes never left the glaive's face. 

A moment went by and Noctis saw Nyx's lips drop out of its snarl, drawing into a tight line as dark brows drew together in a confused frown. His grip loosened, the blade drawing back from Noct's skin by a hair's breadth, the hand to his chest retracting somewhat and letting up some pressure. Another moment and Nyx's eyes came into focus, going from confused to panicked in a flash. 

He sat up very suddenly, _throwing_ the kukri across the room and backpedaling off of Noctis with a cry. There was a loud thud as Nyx hit the hardwood floor and wrapped his arms around himself. His back pressed into the side of the mattress as if he hoped to melt into it, breath coming in quick, a sure sign of the beginning of hyperventilation. Now fully awake, Noctis was careful to not make any sudden or quick movements, coming at him slowly until their knees were touching. 

"Nyx...?" 

The reaction to his voice was immediate, a flinch and a sharp inhale. Nyx's eyebrows crinkled in a distressed expression. He reached out and took Noct's hands into his own, sliding up to his shoulders and then face. 

"Noct..." His voice came out soft and hoarse and thick with unshed tears. "Noctis, baby, I-I didn't... I didn't mean to... A-are you okay? Did I hurt you? Baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't--" 

"Shhhhh," Noctis cut him off. He laid his hands over Nyx's and brought them to his lap, thumbs tracing circles into the scarred skin at the back of the glaive's hands. "I'm okay, you're okay. Everything's okay. You didn't hurt me, I'm just fine." 

If Noctis hadn't been intently staring at Nyx's face, he would have missed the slight wobble to his chin, the downturn to the corners of his lips, the distressed look in stormy blue eyes full of unshed tears. Nyx pulled Noctis close and buried his head in sleep-tousled black hair. Noctis brought his arms up and around toned shoulders, stroking a hand up and down his back. If he noticed the shaking in the glaive's sturdy frame, then he didn't say anything. 

Noctis was better prepared for future attacks. When he would wake to Nyx having a nightmare, he would slowly coax the glaive into consciousness by sitting arm's length away and stroking a hand down his hip. Once he was awake, Noct would open the window to the sounds of the sleepless city and just hold him until they were both calm enough to move to the living room and put something distracting on the TV. 

Nyx didn't keep his kukris within reach of the bed anymore. 

He eventually shared the contents of his nightmares with Noctis, after several more months and a lot of persuasion. 

"It's mostly just flashes of the worst," Nyx said softly, staring into a warm mug of chamomile tea after a particularly rough night. The rising sun cast long shadows on his tired face. "Sometimes it's the MTs, sometimes it's my family or other glaives. Sometimes It's the daemons – behemoths, cerberus, Diamond Weapon... There's always fire, and it always smells like blood and smoke, and it's always loud, those MTs never stop fucking _screaming_ \--" He cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes shut, and takes in a deep breath. 

Noctis runs a comforting hand up and down his back. They're both tired and it shows as dark circles beneath their eyes and slouched postures. He wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed, but Nyx needs him, needs a human touch and the sounds of a city no longer fighting to survive. The subject of Noctis deserving better is frequently brought up in the aftermath of the nightmares. 

"You don't have to put up with my shit," Nyx says. 

"I don't have to," Noctis replies. "But I want to." 

"Why?" 

"Because I love you." 

Nyx laughs tonelessly. "You love a broken mess like me?" 

"I do." Noctis sets both of their coffee mugs on the table, takes Nyx's hands into his own, and taps their foreheads together. "I love the broken mess that is Nyx Ulric and there will be nothing that changes that." 

The smile that comes to Nyx's lips this time is sincere, though small. "I love you too, little star."


End file.
